Forever Bonded
by neela
Summary: A man takes time to visit the past. Angsty and AU. Oneshot.


_**Disclaimers: **Does it look like millions of dollars are finding their way into my bank account? No, they're on their way to a Mr Robert Jordan, because he owns the world of Wheel of Time and its characters. I'm only playing._

_**Summary:** A man takes time to visit the past.  
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_**Rating:** T  
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_**Author's Note: **Oh, find your hankies, because I cried when writing this thing! Angst alert! One-shot and complete - R&R!  
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Forever Bonded**  
_by neela_

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The trees were swaying gently in the warm late summer wind, sparkling in shades of green and early autumn. Swirling around the rolling hilltops the wind stretched further and further west, towards the sun that was slowly finding its way down.

A man came walking up one of the green-capped hills. His back was straight, his hair flashing dark and red in the last rays of sunlight. Sharp eyes set on a withered face were scanning the surroundings as he went. Even now, in peace-time, there were dangers lurking around. People who wanted his blood for doing what shouldn't have been done; fighting a one-man's war, and winning.

Walking with decided, measured steps, his blue eyes were fixed upon a peaceful spot not ten paces away, right on the top of the hill. It lay exposed to the sun on the west side of a large willow, its branches withered by the years past but still spitting out new life in large quantities like the rest of the nature in this land. So much had happened, in such a short period of time, but at least there was peace now. He could find a little comfort in that.

By the old roots, he saw a beautiful, colourful bird standing upon a flat stone of sorts, singing its song in a happy tune. It made him twitch his lips in a sentimental way that felt unnerving to him. He wasn't used to that kind of emotion. It hadn't been the time for emotions during the war. He needed to be cold then, and that he'd certainly become, to the cost of others.

Reaching the stone, he stopped to look around him again. Trained eyes could see the hidden guards surrounding the hill, keeping the dangers from reaching him. He'd insisted upon that. This was a very special moment for him; he didn't want his men hanging over his shoulders, nosing into what wasn't their business. It was private, extremely private. Something he hadn't been able to do for years.

Adjusting the sword on his hip, he kneeled before the stone. A large hand, marked by years of dancing the sword in more ways than just one, reached down to brush away old leaves in dark shades of orange. His throat tightened as the first weathered script slowly appeared under his hand. Forcing his emotions under control, he traced the fading lines with his fingers. Seeing it now brought back memories he'd rather be without.

"Mother, I'm sorry. I failed you, that day in the village. I should have fought."

_____The Trollocs were everywhere he looked, red blood covering them from the defenceless villagers. With his eight-year-old eyes, he watched as one of the boys he'd been playing with just an hour ago fell under the black sword of a Myrddraal. Dead, unseeing eyes locked with his own, but he couldn't scream. It hurt too much._

_____From the corner of his eye, he spotted his Father fighting with a group of Shadowspawn – all at once! For a second, pride rushed through him, until he remembered where he was. He clutched the little sword in his hand tighter._

_____Moving his head to the left, he spotted a woman lashing out at two scary-looking men with a strange, white light. He knew that was Myrddraals, vicious beasts that controlled the Trollocs. _

___"__Mother!" he cried, fear running through him. Not seeing them vanish in the light, his Mother spun around, her hair flying in all directions._

___"__What do you think you're doing?" she cried out, frightened, and ran towards him. He shrunk; he didn't like it when she was scared. "This is no playground, you have to—" She never got to finish. A group of Shadowspawn appeared out of nowhere, weapons drawn. One of them went straight for him, red eyes looking at him. He involuntarily took a step back. This was scary! _

___"__Don't you touch him, you foul beasts!" Mother called and started doing her tricks again. All of the Trollocs turned on her, teeth barred and howling animalistic sounds. But these were no animals. He knew that. They were dangerous. He shouldn't be here, but what should he do?_

___"__Mother!" his childish voice called out. She was being forced backwards, up against a wall. No! She had to do her tricks! She had to fight!_

___"__Run, child, run!" she called back. Tears were forming in her eyes. Why was Mother crying? She'd kill them, wouldn't she? She was strong! _

_____But never one to question the orders, he ran. And ran and ran. Between corpses, ruined buildings and the like. So much destruction, so much death for his eight-year-old mind. A staircase suddenly appeared before him, and he almost tripped. He couldn't see because of the water in his eyes, but he got to his feet and ran up, up. _

_____Reaching the roof, he stalled. No one around on the roof, but from here he could see it all. Father, in the distance, fighting with such force he even scared him. Mother and Father's friends, attacking the beasts with whatever weapons they had. It looked like they were winning. Some of the Shadowspawn were retreating! For a second, joy flowed through him, but then he saw his Mother._

_____She stood up against the wall he'd left her by, still shooting off fireballs and whatever all those other things were. Even though it was far away, he could see tears running down her cheeks in thick streams. He didn't fully understand. They were winning, why was Mother sad?_

_____Then he saw all those Trollocs and Myrddraals surrounding her. She was outnumbered, and no one else from the Light's side seemed to notice. He had to do something! _

___"__Mother!" he cried out, hiccupping. She couldn't hear him. And the beasts approached. No, he wouldn't cry! "Mother!" His Father never cried, and he was too big to cry. Elsewhere on the battlefield, the battle was coming to an end, but in that little space where his Mother stood, it never seemed to stop. _

_____And then it happened. He watched in slow-motion as one of the Trollocs broke out of the group, running around and up his Mother's back. The black sword loomed up in the air, ready to strike. As the sword fell down on his Mother, he could feel the ground give out under his feet. It didn't hurt when his knees crashed into the hard stone roof; it was numbed by the even greater pain in his heart. Blue eyes followed the slow movements as his Mother's body rushed down to meet the dirty earth._

___"__Mother!"_

_____He didn't know how long he sat there on the roof, but as soon as he spotted the Trollocs leaving or engaging others in combat, he ran back. Down the stairs, across the battlefield littered with broken stone and dead bodies, and to the wall where his Mother lay._

_____She looked so peaceful, even with all the blood covering her. Her skin was white beneath the dark locks of hair. He nearly didn't dare to touch her, afraid to break the spell of peace. That was until he saw her eyes flutter and her lips move._

___"__Tai'mael…" Her voice was soft and calm, half-whispering her favourite nickname for him, contradicting the tears running down his face. "You're a big boy now. Take care of your Father for me. He will want to join me, but you mustn't let him. It is not his time." One of her lithe hands reached up to cup his cheek. She smiled, but it was sad. "You'll break a lot of hearts, my little warrior. Fighting a one-man's war is not easy. But do not let your heart get too cold. Remember to live."_

___"__Mother-" he hiccupped, slipping his little hand into hers. "Mama, don't die!"_

_____But she was already slipping away. There was just enough life in her to say the final words. "I love you, my child…Tell your Father I love him, so much…" A tear ran down her nose. Slowly, her eyes closed forever. He felt like his heart had been torn out and ripped in a thousand pieces._

___"__I love you, Mama."_

"I always will," he finished quietly.

Brushing aside the single, stray tear, he cleared his throat. Those few moments had been the worst of his life. Nothing could compare to it. His Mother had been the essence of life for both him and his Father. Only to his Father, it was like his very heart and will to live had been viciously ripped out.

He moved his hand down to push aside the last leaves covering the stone. Another script appeared, only not as faded by weather and age as the other. It almost looked freshly carved, but it was more than twelve years old.

Like his Mother had said, Father wanted to join her, but she never described how strongly.

The first year after her death, he'd often suddenly disappeared, only to be found either half-dead by Trolloc wounds or thirst and hunger. Father would ride into the Blight in the wee hours of night, right after bedtime, and he would watch him disappear before alerting the guards. They'd ride out first thing in the morning, and usually return a week or so later with his Father thrown over his saddle. He would then stand outside his bedroom while Father was taken care of, and sneak inside when the Healers were finished. All night he'd sit by his Father's side, praying to his Mother to make him alright. And his Father pulled through.

A year after her death, Father promised to not go on suicide missions anymore. He was happy for that decision, although he didn't know what his Father would do to mourn her now. He hoped it would be something for the better, but he was wrong again.

Oh, his Father helped with his studies and practices, even took him hunting when the times were more peaceful, but at dinner and afterwards he'd find a bottle of oos'quai and get drunk.

One time he'd broken into his bedroom, quite out of his reasonable mind, and accused him of killing his own Mother. Father had given him a blue eye before breaking down completely. He'd been scared out of his wits, but his eleven-year-old mind had understood the sorrow his Father went through and gone to comfort him.

That night had changed everything. From now on, his Father never drank, and he slowly became more of the Father he'd been before her death. But he could never change completely. Grief and sadness went hand in hand with him. Yet he tried his best to get things back to normal. He even managed to joke sometimes. Like when Tai'Mael turned sixteen, received the hadori and had his first experience with women. How his Father had laughed at his stuttering when he was courted by one of the local tavern girls!

He smiled at the memory, tracing the carved lines with his finger. Reaching the end of the script, his smile dropped.

_____They were marching towards the Blight when it happened. Hordes of Trollocs, Myrddraals and Darkfriends attacked the armies from nearly every side. The armies were surrounded. _

_____From within the Void, he fought. Sword form after sword form lashed out from his hands, slashing, cutting, beheading and parrying his enemies. After fighting against these beasts the last thirty-two years, ever since he was eight, he could feel nothing. His Mother's prediction had proven right. He was cold, like his Father. And he'd paid the price for it._

___"__Keep your eyes sharpened, son!" his Father called out to him as he seared his sword through two Trollocs that had sneaked up on him. The man was as broad-shouldered and strong as always, albeit with more white than grey in his hair. "Or do you wish for death?" Cold eyes locked with cold eyes. Then one pair softened. Was there regret he saw there in his Father's eyes?_

___"__I wasn't the Father I should have been, son, all those years ago. All I wanted was to die. Your Mother brought peace to my broken and cold soul, and then suddenly she was gone."_

_____He eyed his Father warily. They were in the middle of a battle, should he really start talking about this **now**? Scanning the area, he sighed relieved that they were alone. At least for the time being. He didn't abandon his ready stance, however. _

___"__I heard your prayers, in those night times after my ridiculous suicide journeys. I – I can't say how much it touched my soul then," his Father looked at him and smiled. The warmth in his smile was clouded by the cold in his eyes. "That's when I promised your Mother I would take care of you. I failed the first year after that promise, but I tried my best afterwards."_

_____He opened his mouth to speak, seeing the enemy advance on them, but his Father cut him off. _

___"__You're big enough to take care of yourself now," he said softly. "I hope you will forgive me this. I love you."_

_____And then Father did what he had not expected. He ran towards the enemy and stopped about a hundred feet away from him. Then he threw away his sword, raising his hands up towards the sky. A look of peace crossed his features as the first Shadowspawn sword lashed out on him, followed by a series of others. His body disappeared in the black masses of Trollocs, never to be seen again._

_____He stood rooted to the spot, sword at his side. Now he was all alone. Both his parents had given their lives for him, so that he and the following generations could go on. And raise the Golden Crane from the ashes. _

___"__Tai'shar Malkier, Father," he said, turning to leave. "I am happy you found peace at last." And then he ran back to his soldiers._

The wind tickled his long hair, streaked with grey at the temples. He touched the handori, smiling. Looking up, he found the sun resting in the distance behind the Seven Towers, encircled with builders' scaffoldings and miniature people hanging in ropes trying to finish for the day. Pride ran through his veins.

"I believe it will please you, Mother and Father, that I had my coronation today," he said softly. He could almost feel how they smiled back at him wherever they were. "But of course, you know that. You can see everything. You know the War is over, for good this time. You know which of your friends have survived and died during the last fifty years." He stopped for a second. "You know about my w—"

"Papa?" a small voice asked behind him. Neither surprised nor angry for having his privacy intruded, he turned around to look into the face of his daughter, Elnore. Dark hair framed a lithe nose, a small mouth and two dark, curious orbs. He smiled and reached out his arms. The four-year-old girl ran into them, hugging him closely.

"Mama said it's dinner, so I had to get you, Papa," the girl said quickly, staring at the stone and not at him. "What is you doing here? What is that?"

He chuckled at her language. So much had changed, indeed. "What **are** you doing here," he corrected. _She looks so much like her grandmother._ He set her on his knee, pointing at the stone.

"That is your grandmother and grandfather. Papa came here to visit them."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to and because I had to tell them about my beautiful daughter." She smiled at his comment. Then she scrunched up her nose, much like her mother did when curious.

"What does it say?" she asked and pointed to the carved script.

All kinds of emotions rushed through him, but mostly, love. A content sigh and he said:

_____Here lies King and Queen of ancient Malkier_

_____el'Nynaeve Mandrogoran_

_____&_

_____al'Lan Mandrogoran_

_____Forever bonded through love_

_____May their souls rest in peace_

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**_**THE END**___**

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_____**Author's Note: **Tai'mael is a nickname, and means True Hope in the Old Tongue. If anyone's wondering, the main character's name is Maeric. Just so you know. Now, I'd really like it if you reviewed this story and let me know what you think. It's nice with a small break from "I Will Find You".  
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